Smile
by evilcupcake11
Summary: "Your child has the most wonderful laugh I have heard in ages. I bless him to forever have a smile on his face." That isn't terrible. Is it?


_Smile- To form one's facial features into a pleased, kind, or amused expression, typically with the corners of the mouth turned up and the front teeth exposed._

A man stood next to his wife, anxiously holding his newborn child. He had heard of the curse, and had timidly expected the arrival of the woman.

Firstborn.

It was always the firstborn that would receive the curse. The man tightened his grip on his child, his firstborn boy.

Nobody understood why _it_ happened. No one could explain it. Ancient stories were all that were heard. People around were told not to share their stories, and out of fear they obliged.

A knock on the door was heard. The infant was placed in soft, feminine hands, and the husband quickly made his way towards the sound.

The oak swung open to reveal a peculiar woman in a cloak. Unexpectedly, she was quite tall with silvery golden locks flowing over her chest. Her smile was kind and unlike anything the couple had heard. A gentle hand tipped her hood down.

Greeting were exchanged, a bit of uncertainty hovering over the family's side.

Soon, the small baby, barely even a month old, was in the hands of a witch the parents knew nothing about. They figured that if they did absolutely nothing wrong, the witch shouldn't curse their young boy.

As soon as the boy went into her arms, he started to cry. The woman frowned and with a flick he went silent. The wife gripped her husband's hand tighter.

Suddenly, the child started to laugh. A delighted laugh, as a swirl of light flashed over his face. The witch smiled fondly, as if she had seen the sight thousands of times.

Which, of course, she had.

"Your child has the most wonderful laugh I have heard in ages. I bless him to forever have a smile on his face."

The couple exhaled, sharing a laugh. The enchantress left, the family expressing gratitude to her as she walked through the doorway.

Three pairs of eyes watched as the woman walked away, dark cloak billowing in the wind behind her, walked down the street and vanished.

A blond boy who couldn't be older than the age of six was running around on the grass. Laughter could be heard from a mile away. The joyous sound was matched with a smile as bright as the sun.

His young parents sat watching him, smiles on their faces just from seeing their boy skipping around.

His laugh was such a radiant, musical sound that people around stopped to stare and smile.

The family felt blessed to eternally hold happiness in their life.

The boy smiled.

A boy walked into his new high school and smiled. For years, he had been practicing to keep a neutral face when meeting new people. Yet he couldn't help it this time.

A new place, a new home, somewhere new for a new beginning.

A chance to make new friends and be free to experience.

He walked to his first class, late. His nerves were on fire. Blond hair shook as he shivered to calm himself, and he was glad that the door to the classroom did not have any windows. He took a breath and steeled himself for stares.

He was right. They sure knew how to stare. He stood at the front of the classroom, the other students observing him as if he were some kind of science project.

The people in front of him knew how to judge. Their gazes criticised him. Some looked confused, some looked bored, and others looked intrigued.

"Class, this is our new student. Please listen while he introduces himself."

And so he did, giving them his name and hiding the most vulnerable parts of his personality. "I like music and poetry. I want to be a doctor. That's about it."

He tried hard to keep his breathing steady. In front of his new classmates, he had no idea what to do. So, he did what he knew best.

He smiled.

He was shoved to the ground in a flurry of heat. The boy could barely lift his head to look at his bully before he was washed over in an avalanche of pain, and red, red was the only colour that he could see.

The blond-haired boy, once full of love and sunshine, crippled over in a wave of hate.

A hole of pain was filling his chest and he felt tears stream down his face. His father was dead. The man who taught him how to ride a bike, how to fix his bookshelf after it broke. The man he had spent countless days fishing with.

Too young. His father was too young for death. He didn't deserve it.

The boy felt sick with himself. His father was dead.

And he was smiling.

"How was your day today?"

The boy tried unsuccessfully to walk out of the kitchen. His mother blocked his path. "I asked you how your day was."

"It was fine, Mom. Can I please go to my room?"

Silence was what was heard. He looked up to see his mother, once young and beautiful, looking at her with worry etched in the wrinkles embedded in her forehead. He smiled, but his eyes betrayed him. Even though his mother couldn't see his pain through the blue oceans that were his irises, his eyes reflected pain.

His body was tired and his mind wouldn't stop running around. The slightest whisper was heard from his mother.

"Go."

And with the heartbroken pain of an unprideful mother, he slowly ascended the stairs to go to his escape.

The boy stood staring at himself in his mirror, stripped down to his skin. Skin that hid secrets that nobody knew and pain that only others like him could understand.

As he stared at the violent shades of purple and blue on his skin, remnants and reminders of the pain he was diagnosed with each and every single day.

Some part, deep down inside of him, had been rising up slowly, and today was the day that it would break through. The voice in his head burst out of its prison. Maybe he deserved this.

Slowly, his eyes found their way to stare back at themselves.

He smiled.

This time he could not take it. After an eternity of red, he was introduced to the colour black.

He liked the colour black, he really did. He knew that someday, hopefully someday soon, he would be washed away in a current of black, a torrent that would sweep away his deepest fears and biggest nightmares. A colour that would put him to rest.

He was unfairly thrown into a world of white and bright lights. His mind was spinning and he could barely register what was happening around him or _why_ he was still here.

He didn't want to be here.

As he listen to the faint beeping and the steady breathing of more than one person, her seemed to realize he was in a hospital.

"Oh, baby." his mother cooed over him, patting his head over and over, her tears mixing in with the yellow hair that needed a cut. "They're not going to hurt you anymore. Never again, you're safe. You're _allowed_ to be happy."

For an elated moment he actually believed her. This time, it was real, and it didn't fade away.

His smile.

He walked home from school, escaping from his last year of misery. The rain pounded heavily through his umbrella. His only form of protection from the weeping world was broken, holes piercing through the thin, ivory skin.

He ignored his soaked frame and pulled his hood up. He flicked his hair across his face with an arc of water, softly singing the lyrics to his favourite song.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you-"

And he crashed into a shadowy blur. Apologies were muttered on both parts, and the boy took a good look at the boy he had walked into. He couldn't be more than a year older than him. Black, black, black, black. Handsome dark.

Two more times he saw the mysterious stranger, and each time he was intrigued by him.

On the third time, he heard him speaking Italian and couldn't handle it anymore. And and so the friendship blossomed.

"Hi."

He smiled.

He was rude. The boy stayed strong, determined to be friends with the dark outsider.

One day, he couldn't take it anymore. He called the man out on it. He asked him why he was so rude. The man was taken aback. It was silent for a moment before a breathy confession was spoken, voice laced with regret and pain.

"I'm a curse. Anyone who loves me is doomed to die."

He became friends with the boy after that. He had found out his mother, sisters, and father had died all because of his curse.

After knowing the man for a long time, the blond boy exploded.

"I love you. I don't care. I love you, and I will never stop loving you."

Their lips were molded together in an unknown goodbye.

This time, he wasn't the only one smiling.

True to the curse, a body was found the next day.

A blond haired body laying on the floor of his room. They explained it as a sudden death. The once warm and living boy was cold and pale. He was smiling.

A dark blur fastened itself to the body, crying. He spoke in a quiet, broken voice.

"Please don't take my sunshine away."

The next day, another body was found. Darker than the last one, covered in red. The familiar, revolting colour was everywhere. The dark, once handsome man was also smiling.

In his hands was a piece of paper. Words were shakily printed onto it in blood.

 _Please don't take my sunshine away._


End file.
